


Drink(s) to His Memory

by NowYoCandysGone



Series: Setleth-Azure Moon [4]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Drinking, Drunkenness, F/M, Heavy Drinking, Mild Sexual Content, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 03:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21385462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NowYoCandysGone/pseuds/NowYoCandysGone
Summary: Every year, on the anniversary of her father's passing, Byleth shares a few drinks with him. This year, Seteth joins in.
Relationships: Flayn/Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth/Seteth
Series: Setleth-Azure Moon [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1469396
Comments: 3
Kudos: 88





	Drink(s) to His Memory

**Author's Note:**

> A very special thanks to my friends in the Setleth Discord Server for helping me through the block that resulted in this fic. (Specifically TByleth, OpalofWorlds, and Ayami--thanks for all of the ideas and for beta-ing this fic for me!)
> 
> The only reason this is rated M is because of mentions of heavy drinking and very brief, mild sexual implications. 
> 
> There are major game spoilers in this fic. Read at your own discretion!

_ Day 26 of the Guardian Moon, Year 1190 _

Byleth regarded one of the guards who was stationed outside of the monastery’s cemetery with a silent nod as she approached.

"Please do not allow me to be disturbed today," she spoke quietly to the guard. 

The guard gave a stiff salute to the archbishop, then stepped aside to allow her access to the cemetery. She nodded her thanks to him and made her way down the steps and to the headstone under which rested her parents. It was late in the afternoon, so all of the frost that had settled on the ground had melted into dew on the grass. Byleth laid out the blanket that she had under her arm and took a seat next to the headstone, being careful not to sit directly on the mound of dirt and grass in front of the headstone. 

“Hi Dad…” Byleth said softly as she laid out a fresh bouquet of flowers on the grave. She could hardly believe that it had been an entire decade since his passing. Ever since the end of the war, she made it a point to visit him as often as she could. However, every single year, on the anniversary of his death, she spent most of the day at his side. As the archbishop, spending the entire day with him was just unfeasible, so she took what she could get. Her husband and advisor could hold down the fort for a day.

She opened her outer robe and pulled out an old flask engraved with her father’s initials that had certainly seen better days. She had found it among the rubble in her father’s old office shortly after her five year absence and subsequent return to the monastery. She uncapped it and raised a toast to her father’s headstone, then took a long swig of the contents. The alcohol burned as it went down, but it tasted refreshing nonetheless. Her father’s favorite Almyran ale had been hard to get her hands on, but thanks to Claude, she had quite the stash built up in the cellars. It certainly came in handy for days like today. 

The day her father died was still vivid in her memory. The gleam of the knife, the resonating clang of her deflected blade, the tears that stung her eyes for the first time, falling on her father’s face. His final words to her. Even now, Byleth felt tears burn at the corners of her eyes and she took another lengthy sip of her drink. That dried the tears right up. She tried her best to recall a good memory or two of her time with her father. Like her father, she had an increased tolerance for alcohol, and it took a lot to get her drunk. She could drink any one of her former students under the table easily. 

She remembered the very first time he took her out for a drink. She couldn’t recall how old she had been exactly, only that she had been a young adult. It was a ‘right of passage as a mercenary’, as he had described it. She remembered how the bartender had eyed her cautiously as he passed over her first mug of ale--then as second--then a third. 

_ “You’re really putting it back, kid! Just like your old man! Hey barkeep! Get her another one!”  _

Byleth remembered waking the following morning with the worst headache of her life. Her father had provided his remedy for a hangover headache (candied ginger), and they had moved on to the next job. 

The archbishop sighed and took a small sip of her drink this time, wanting to make the alcohol last a little longer. It was a sizable flask that she was drinking out of, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough to get her drunk. Not even close. Luckily for her, she had a nice bulky winter robe that was excellent at hiding moderate sized bottles of ale. 

—-

Four hours passed uneventfully for Byleth. She refilled Jeralt’s flask a good four or five times during those hours, and her head was pleasantly fuzzy and her fingertips were numb. A nice buzz, but not quite drunk yet. She didn’t know if she  _ needed  _ to get drunk, per say, but it she knew that her father would be, were he still alive. As she finished off her current serving of ale, she could hear distant arguing from the top of the stairs. She turned her head and saw the bright green hair that belonged undoubtedly to her husband, and he was arguing with the guard. Byleth stood and smoothed out her robes, then made her way towards the stairs so that she could hear what Seteth and the guard were saying. 

“I’m sorry Seteth, but the archbishop asked to not be disturbed today.”

“I understand that. However, I am her husband. Surely she will see me. You are taking your job far too seriously.”

“Am I not to take my job seriously? The archbishop made it clear to me that she was not to be disturbed.”

“It’s okay. You can let him in,” Byleth spoke, her voice slurred slightly. The guard turned to her and nodded, stepping aside to allow Seteth access to the cemetery. Seteth made his way down the steps and followed Byleth back to her blanket, where she had left the flask and the half empty bottle of ale. 

“Did you need me for something, Seteth?” Byleth asked as she took a seat on the blanket.

“I just came to check on you. I know that today is a...difficult...day for you.” He paused. “Have you been drinking?”

“And if I have?” Byleth deadpanned. She obviously didn’t care what her husband thought of her activities today. “It’s not sad drinking, in case you’re wondering. I’m sharing a few drinks with my father. He would have been proud. I used to drink with him long before I came to the monastery…” Seteth frowned but didn’t say anything, instead, he kneeled down on the blanket next to Byleth.

“In that case, would you mind if I join you? I don’t think you should drink alone.” Byleth’s eyebrows shot up. 

“I didn’t take you for a drinker, Seteth,” Byleth said, pulling a second flask from her robes and handing it off to her husband.

“I’m not, but I will occasionally have a glass of wine or ale,” Seteth replied, uncapping the flask and taking a sip. His face soured instantly, and he looked to his wife for an explanation. Byleth had a smile on her face.

“It’s Almyran ale. My father’s favorite, courtesy of Claude,” she explained. “I should have warned you. It’s strong.”

"It's not that it's too strong for me, I just haven't had a drink in a good while," Seteth defended, taking another sip to prove that to his wife. Byleth laughed, a rare occasion in itself. 

"Okay, Seteth. Whatever you say." She finished off her current flask and set it aside for a moment. She was many,  _ many _ drinks ahead of her husband at this point. She might as well give him a chance to catch up. However, she didn't know Seteth's tolerance for alcohol, so she was unaware of how much it would take to get him even buzzed.

The two drank in relative silence for a while, Byleth refilled both their flasks a couple of times, and she could see the blush forming in her husband's cheeks. 

"You didn't know my father very well, did you Seteth?" Byleth asked.

"No, I did not. I came to the monastery not long after he left with you." Byleth frowned and nodded, looking at her father's headstone. 

"He didn't like you very much…" she said bluntly. "He once told me that he could only trust you as far as he could throw you, and that I should watch my back." Seteth cleared his throat awkwardly. 

"Sound advice for the time, I suppose. Do you suppose he would have been willing to get to know me further, had you explained our... situation?" 

"I'm sure he would have hated you even more, darling. I'm his only daughter, after all." Byleth laughed heartily and took another sip of her drink. "Had I been a defiant child, I might have seduced you just to make him mad." 

"But you weren't a defiant child, were you?" 

"Not even close. I always followed my father no matter what, I listened to him and his advice. He taught me everything I know about the sword…" It was silent between husband and wife for a moment, then Seteth spoke up.

"You didn't fall in love with me just to make Jeralt mad, did you?" 

"What? Of course not! I would never want to make my father angry. Plus, you're just too handsome to resist, my love."

"And you're quite beautiful yourself," Seteth replied leaning in and pressing a few kisses to Byleth's neck. She could feel the warmth radiating off of her husband.

"Seteth, not in front of my father…" she said, a small moan escaping her lips. 

"Then let's allow him to rest in peace…" Seteth's arm came to rest around her waist and he pulled her close.

"Are you always this affectionate, love?" Byleth asked. 

"Only when I'm inebriated, and only when I'm around you…put both together…" Byleth leaned into his touch, her body going slightly limp. She loved it when her husband was affectionate because it was a side of him she rarely got to see.

"We should...go back to our quarters…" Byleth murmured. 

"Agreed," Seteth said with a nod. He let Byleth go and she stood on wobbly legs. Seteth stood much more easily. "Are you okay to walk?" He held out his arms to catch her just in case she was going to fall. 

"Yes...I just need a moment." Byleth did her best to regain her composure, and once her mind had cleared a bit, she turned to Seteth. "Just in case, may I hold onto your arm?" She asked.

"Of course." Seteth held out his arm and Byleth took it, holding on for dear life, as if letting go would cause her to fall. Seteth started to walk up the steps slowly, making sure that Byleth was okay. 

"Is Her Grace well?" The guard asked at the top of the stairs. 

"She is fine, she's just not feeling well." 

"Not feeling well…" Byleth mumbled, playing along with Seteth's lie. It would do no good for the guard to know that she had been drinking heavily. 

"I am taking her back to her quarters to get some rest." 

"Yes, rest is good," She agreed with a smile to the guard. 

"Feel better, Your Grace," the guard said with a salute.

"Thank you." 

\---

To Byleth, being as drunk as she was, it seemed as though the quarters she shared with her husband were miles away, when really, they were just across the courtyard and up two flights of stairs. She held tight to her husband and walked slowly with him. To a passerby, it would just seem as though they were walking the grounds together.

They were in the home stretch so to speak. Just one more flight of stairs and they could be alone. As Byleth and Seteth made their way down the hallway, Byleth's hands roamed to the buttons on Seteth's robes. She only got the second one undone before a voice startled her. Byleth turned and she sighed. It was Alois.

"Byleth! Seteth! There you are!" He said. 

"Alois. What can we do for you?" Seteth clearly was no more excited to see the knight than Byleth was, although her face betrayed her true feelings while Seteth managed to keep a straight face. 

"I was just about to head to the cemetery to pay my respects to Jeralt and was wondering if you two would like to join me." 

"We were just there, actually…" Seteth explained. "Byleth has been there most of the day."

"Ah, I see. Well, it was worth a  _ shot _ I suppose." 

Seteth blinked. Was Alois aware of their current state? He supposed it was fairly obvious…But joking about it was hardly appropriate. 

"You know, your father loved my jokes. Do you think his ghost would still enjoy some good  _ boo-ze? _ " He laughed heartily, not realizing that no one was laughing with him.

"My father tolerated your jokes, Alois," Byleth said. "As do most people." 

"Well hey now, no need to be rude!" Alois said, feigning offense. "Besides, you seem a little  _ absinthe-minded _ , Your Grace." Seteth could feel his eye twitching. Alois was a good knight, and a strong Ally, but his puns were terrible.

Seteth started muttering under his breath, and all Byleth could make out were the words "dumbest" and "heard". The rest sounded as though it was in another language. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, Seteth. Almost sounded like you were speaking another language there! But that's ridiculous!" Alois laughed.

_ Had _ Seteth been speaking another language? Byleth knew her husband to be of a different race than she, and he was a very smart man. It was not completely ridiculous that he could have been speaking another language. However, her mind was fuzzy, so she couldn't be 100% certain.

"Hardly so. Now if you'll excuse us, Alois."

Before Alois could respond, Seteth took Byleth's hand and led her up the stairs, leaving a confused Alois in their wake.

\---

Once upstairs, Byleth crossed the room to the bed and flopped on her back onto the mattress with a loud sigh of relief. 

"Man, I thought he'd  _ never _ shutup!" Byleth slurred far too loudly. She sat up, leaning on her elbows. "My love, my saint, my sexy muffin, come here." Seteth stepped over to the bed and kneeled in front of it, meeting his wife's gaze.

"What did you call me?" He asked.

"My sexy muffin," Byleth repeated, kissing his nose. "May I ask you something?" She said.

"Anything, my love."

"When we were talking with Alois just now...did you speak in another language briefly?" 

"αυτό ήταν το χαζό αστείο που έχω ακούσει ποτέ." 

"Excuse me?"

"'That was the dumbest joke I have ever heard.' that's what I said to him." Byleth started to laugh. 

"My love, you are very entertaining while you are drunk. We need to have you drink more often."

"I do not think that is a good idea." 

"May I ask you something else?"

"You needn't ask, just go ahead."

"If I  _ had _ been a defiant child, and I  _ had  _ seduced you to make my father angry, would you have gone along with it?" Seteth thought for a moment.

"No, I don't believe I would have. Not at the time, anyway." 

"Okayokay, but say that my father made you angry. And he made me angry too. Would you have letme seduce you  _ then _ ?" 

"Not even then." Byleth pouted. 

"You're no fun. My cranky, stick in the mud husband." 

"Why are you asking me these things anyway?" Seteth asked, tilting his head. 

"Because I wanted to pretend," Byleth said disappointment lacing her voice. "But you clearly have no interest in that." 

"Who said I had no interest? I most certainly did and do have an interest in you, my love."

"You're sweet, but now you have to  _ prove it _ ." 

"Byleth, you're inebriated. I won't take advantage of you in this state." 

"You wouldn't be taking advantage. We have both been drinking, we are married, Isee no issue here."

"And if you don't remember anything in the morning?"

"Well I suppose that will be my own fault, now won't it? I'm already more sober than I was thanks to Alois."

"How is that relevant?" Seteth asked. 

"Jusshut up and kiss me." Seteth was not going to argue with that. He climbed up on the bed, laying down at his wife's side and kissed her. His lips moulded over hers rather sloppily. If the alcohol hadn't made his mind fuzzy, kissing her certainly did. She struggled to continue what she had started while they were downstairs. Her fingers fumbled over his tunic's buttons, only managing to successfully undo three of them before she gave up with a groan of frustration. Much to her surprise, she felt a deep rumble in her husband's chest, as it was pressed against hers, and he started to laugh. 

"What's so funny?" She demanded, a pout forming on her face. 

"You've just proven that you are too far gone to engage in this. I think some rest would do you well, my love." He kissed her cheek and moved so he was no longer above her, laying down at her side. With a playful smirk on her face, she quickly took the opportunity to move to straddle his hips. Perhaps far too quickly, for shortly after, there was a loud  _ thump _ on the floor as Byleth's lack of balance betrayed her and sent her tumbling off the bed. 

"Ow…" she whined.

"Are you okay, my love?" Seteth asked, leaning over the edge of the bed to look at her. 

"I survived a damn war, and yet falling off the damn bed bruises my ego more than one thousand spear, axe, sword, or bow wounds ever could…" she rambled. Seteth climbed off the bed and helped his wife stand, then assisted her in getting back into bed.

"Now do you believe me when I say you're too inebriated to engage?" He asked. Byleth sighed and nodded. As Seteth settled next to her, she curled into his side and closed her eyes. Seteth did the same.

"Tomorrow then." 

Seteth was already asleep.

\---

The morning light filtered through the curtains, shining directly on Byleth's face. She groaned loudly. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and her head pounded right along with it. She clenched her eyes shut and moved to curl into her husband's side even more. She heard him groan as he stirred and he raised a hand to his forehead.

"Good morning…" he said.

"What's so good about it?" Byleth murmured, burying her face in Seteth's chest. Before he could respond, there was a polite knock on the door. "Whoever it is, tell them to go away…"

"Yo, Teach! Pops!" Claude's voice sounded from the other side of the door. "You up yet? It's almost ten!" 

"Is that Claude? Did he call you 'Pops'?" Byleth asked, raising her head. " _ Definitely _ tell him to go away."

"He  _ did _ marry my daughter, love. I've told him time and time again not to call me that, however." The door opened and in walked Claude and Flayn. In her hands was a serving tray, it was the most delicious smelling breakfast Byleth had ever been graced with. 

"Whoa! Teach! What happened to you? You look like shit!" 

"Gee, thanks, Claude...big words coming from someone whose fault it is." 

"What? My fault?" 

"You're the one who gave me the ale." 

"Not my fault you can't handle your liquor," Claude defended. Flayn balanced the tray and put her hand on Claude's arm.

"Claude, not what we are doing right now…"

"Right, right…" Claude conceded, he turned, smiling at Seteth. "Happy Birthday, Seteth!" 

"Happy Birthday, Father!"

Byleth looked to her husband, her face downcast. "Oh goddess, I totally forgot your birthday…" 

"I hold nothing against you, my love," Seteth said, kissing the top of her head. He turned to Flayn and Claude. "Thank you, you two. But...perhaps you could give us some time to clean up and be more presentable?"


End file.
